


A Hard Place

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Don't Let the Manjuu Sneeze, Frottage, Is That Your Hand On My..., M/M, Tight Spaces, UST Meme, trapped in a confined space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: UST meme: Trapped in a Confined SpaceKurogane can feel warmth all along his front, in stark contrast to the chill of the stone behind him: Fai is a line of heat, a living, breathing body pressed tight against him, and despite Kurogane’s utter disdain for this entire situation, it’s hard not to let that heat soak into his skin like firelight.
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	A Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> Much more of this, and Kurogane's going to crack.
> 
> CW: being trapped in a confined space is a major theme of this work, and there are references to possible suffocation. If you are claustrophobic, or sensitive to tight, close spaces, please read with caution or not at all.

If Kurogane dies here, wedged into the pitch-black arsecrack of the world with sand in his eyes and a jagged piece of stone jabbing into his kidney, it’s going to be from sheer bloody-minded rage that it was the manjuu _sneezing_ of all things that trapped him.

It turns out that if your magical manjuu gets the sniffles mid-transportation spell, not only will your party splinter, but there is the real and incredibly dangerous prospect that you’re going to materialise somewhere extremely unfortunate. Such as crammed between the rocky walls of a narrow, crumbling canyon with an idiot for company.

“Well,” says Fai, after a long moment of shocked silence. “It could be-”

“If you say worse, I’m going to spit in your eye.” It’s no idle threat - they might be in darkness so absolute their eyes won’t adjust, but Kurogane can tell from the breath on his face and the fluffy hair tangled between them that Fai’s close enough he doesn’t have to aim. Not to mention the pointy chin digging into the slope of Kurogane’s shoulder. 

Hell, at this point it’d be harder _not_ to hit the idiot, seeing as they’re fixed together like two vines twining, legs tangled and Fai’s left arm caught between them; gods alone know where his other arm is, but it’s not touching Kurogane, even if damn near every other inch of the skinny bastard is pressed uncomfortably close.

“Please don’t,” says Fai weakly. “We’re in a bad enough situation as it is.”

Kurogane’s lip curls in disgust. “Weren’t you saying it could be worse half a second ago?” It’s exactly the kind of mindless platitude he’d expect from an airhead like Fai: meaningless bullshit, with no real thought behind it.

“I was saying it to make myself feel better, if I’m honest,” continues Fai blithely, trying and failing to sound cheerful. “Is that your hand on my… _er_ , thigh?”

Kurogane’s hand _is_ on Fai’s thigh… and also a good few inches above it, fingers curling neatly into the crease between the back of Fai’s leg and the swell of his backside. Kurogane is not exactly horrified to realise that he can hold pretty much all of it with one hand - Fai’s tall, but he’s a twig of a man, all sinew and bone and ropey muscle; there’s barely any meat on him at all - but he’s not exactly _delighted_ either. Especially seeing as, by some stroke of misfortune, Fai’s feet are dangling somewhere around Kurogane’s shins, the press of their bodies and their uncomfortably close quarters pinning him between the wall and Kurogane’s chest without letting him touch the ground. All of which culminates in the fact that Fai is basically sitting in his hand, with Kurogane’s fingers crushed up against hard stone.

“Yeah,” says Kurogane, because what _else_ do you say when a man asks if you’re cupping his arse when you are, in fact, _cupping his arse_ \- but it’s not like he hasn’t already seen the idiot in various states of dishevelled undress, anyway. That’s what happens when you travel with someone and more often than not end up bunking in the same room as them: any concept of self-awareness or modesty goes out the window.

Still. Looking’s a lot different than _touching_ , and the thin, stretchy cloth of whatever Fai’s leggings are made of might as well not be there at all for how tight they’re squeezed together. Kurogane can feel warmth all along his front, in stark contrast to the chill of the stone behind him: Fai is a line of heat, a living, breathing body pressed tight against him, and despite Kurogane’s utter disdain for this entire situation, it’s hard not to let that heat soak into his skin like firelight.

“I refuse to die here,” says Fai, apparently deciding Kurogane’s hand on his arse is the least of his problems. (With what little Kurogane has managed to glean of Fai, it probably is.)

“Great,” says Kurogane. “So are you gonna do your, _you know_ ,” Kurogane wiggles his fingers to indicate magic without thinking about it, and earns himself scraped knuckles and a shocked grunt for his efforts, squeezing a surprisingly plush handful without even thinking. “Shit. Sorry.”

“No,” says Fai bluntly, squirming forward and out of Kurogane’s grip as much as he’s able - which is an inch at best, his knee pressing harder into the inside of Kurogane’s thigh and the leather of his boots scraping Kurogane’s shins through his trews. “I told you - I can’t.”

“You mean you _won’t_ ,” counters Kurogane, and maybe this isn’t the first time they’ve argued about this, because he can hear Fai frowning at him in the darkness between their faces. “I don’t get it - you could snap your fucking fingers and get us out of here, and yet you don’t. If I had the _power_ you do-”

“If _you_ had the power I do, you’d already be _dead_ ,” snaps Fai, teeth clicking viciously, and the sheer _ice_ in his voice is as razored and sharp as it is cold. “I said _no_.” His chest heaves, pressing against Kurogane, and each breath is like a bellows: a pant on the edge of panic.

Here, like this, with only darkness and a possibly finite supply of air it could be a death sentence. Kurogane bites his tongue on the next retort, attempting something like placating. “Alright. Magic’s not an option.” Fai’s breathing calms a little, no long the tea-kettle whistle of a man on the verge of a breakdown. For a moment, it's just that: the sound of Fai's breathing as he spirals down again, and it takes a while until Kurogane feels he can speak again.

“Assuming the kids aren’t caught in a situation of their own,” continues Kurogane, forcing his voice to quiet steadiness, “they’re probably looking for us. So we should make it easier to be found.”

A sigh, heavy and hot as it brushes his skin. “Can you feel anything behind you - any cracks in the stone, or moving air?” Fai’s voice is not so icy now, but it’s not exactly warm; more detached than Kurogane would have expected, as though the mage is recalling distant lessons learned long ago. “If there’s a breeze, it should tell us which way the surface is.”

Not to mention whether they’re going to run out of air and suffocate.

Kurogane twists the arm not pinned between Fai and the wall, scraping his sleeve against stone and baring skin beneath the sting of it - but the merest breath of a movement prickles raw against his wrist, soothing on grazed skin. “Yeah,” says Kurogane, closing his eyes to better focus on the sensation. “It’s coming from behind me, coming down.” He stretches a little, fingernails catching on a split in the rock and tumbling loose a crumble of dirt and a swirl of cool air against his fingertips. “Definitely downwards.”

Fai sighs again. “Good. That’s better than nothing.” He squirms again, wriggling forward enough that Kurogane has to grunt as Fai’s legs squeeze about his thigh.

“Stop that - I’m not a tree to climb.”

“My ear’s itchy,” complains Fai in moody retort, and Kurogane sees a brief flicker of light in the darkness as Fai jerks his head forward, smacking into Kurogane’s cheek with that empty skull and scattering stars from the force of the blow. “Ow!”

“Ow, _fuck_ \- quit wriggling,” Kurogane snaps, and to make his point, pinches Fai squarely on the arse.

“ _Ow!”_

Fai only stops for a moment to hiss in pain before wriggling again, with even more force than before, and Kurogane has to splutter out a mouthful of fine hair as Fai’s fluffy head comes dangerously close to smacking him in the face again.

“You’ll get more than that if you don’t stop fucking moving!”

“But it _itches_ ,” Fai whines, in the tone of voice that threatens a pout. “This is torture, Kuro-tan!”

Kurogane, having actually tortured multiple would-be assassins in the service of the crown, could argue otherwise.

“Can’t you scratch my ear for me?”

“With what hands?” Kurogane spits through clenched teeth. “I’ve got one arm holding your skinny arse up - _literally_ \- and the other pinned behind me. How the fuck am I supposed to scratch your ear?!”

“I don’t care how you do it, just do it!” Fai wriggles again, an all-over squirm that makes him undulate in eelish discomfort - and this time the point of his knee jabs into Kurogane’s inner thigh and stays there, grinding in as those skinny hips rock forward and back. It hurts as much as it feels uncomfortably intimate, and Kurogane can’t even kick the bastard.

_“Please!”_

The sound of that pleading gasp twists between Kurogane's ears like a hand grabbing something at the back of his brain, and he snarls with wordless frustration. He's prickling all over with the kind of stinging irritation that leads quickly to murder, and it's all he can do to jerk forward and snap at Fai’s ear. Kurogane seizes the lobe ungently, squeezing with force as he draws it into his mouth, and Fai gasps out a shocked little sound. It’s not a tearing bite, but it’s _something_ , and he grinds the little nub of skin between his teeth in a way that must be painful, tugging back until it slips free his lips at last and his breath falls heavy against the curve of Fai’s skull, the floss of his hair sticking to Kurogane’s mouth.

“ _There_. That shut you up.”

Except Fai really _does_ shut up, completely and totally; has gone as rigid as a statue against him, every part of that squirming body frozen still but for the breath catching in the chest that trembles against Kurogane’s own. When Fai draws in a breath at last, it’s stuttering and weak, barely a whisper in the dark, and Kurogane realises he’s made a terrible mistake in the exact moment his blood pulls hot down to his gut with such speed it _burns_.

He doesn’t speak. Neither of them do, trapped in a moment of silence that stretches thin as thread, spinning out taut and quivering with the strain. The sound Fai made before - it was not a protest, or a noise of pain; it was the kind of sound a man rarely makes outside his lover’s arms, and all too suddenly Kurogane is very aware of _his_ arms, and how exactly Fai is caught in one, pulled in tight and pressing against his chest.

Kurogane's fingers twitch unthinkingly, squeezing up into the thickness of his thigh, the taut muscle that jumps against his palm as Fai's hips jolt forward - _forward_ , not away, and the drag of soft hair against Kurogane’s cheek as Fai turns towards him with tense and tentative slowness is its own kind of silk, a shiver that unspools across Kurogane’s skin.

Kurogane’s nose slips against the edge of Fai’s ear, into the hollow behind it, and everything is the scent of sweat: the sharp taste of another man’s skin on his tongue, earthy with salt. He can feel Fai’s heartbeat, drumming fast against his own ribs, and Fai's mouth is a hot, wet scrape against Kurogane's jaw as a slow breath is dragged between gasping lips.

Fai shudders against him, swooning closer still as his fingers curl tight in the cloth of Kurogane’s tunic, and the pull of taut fabric as Fai’s hand closes to a trembling fist drags tight over skin that _sings_ with sensation: in the dark, in this small space, it’s all Kurogane can feel - every sense narrowed into sharp and stinging awareness.

It would be so, so easy to _just_ –

“Don’t,” whispers Fai. “Gods above, _please don’t_.”

He’s still trembling, whole body shaking with something like fear - but even so, he's pressed closer than ever before, as close as he can be, the space between them thin and weightless and thrumming with heat. Fai's hand pinned to Kurogane's chest spasms needily, Kurogane’s shirt straining in his grip.

“Why?” It’s barely a breath, and Kurogane feels the shock that lances through Fai at the question like it struck his own flesh, a double-chested gasp that stutters like a heartbeat and leaves them both breathless.

“Because if you do,” and the words are a brand, hot and wet and whispered into the darkness, into the skin of Kurogane’s throat, “because if you _do_ , oh - _I won’t want you to stop_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me how they got out of this predicament, it's really not important. The _point_ (ahem) of being trapped in a confined space with each other is you can't escape the inevitable boner(s).


End file.
